Million Dollar Christmas Bride - A Billionaire Romance Page 4

“You know how Kurt just got that job as produce manager over at the Wylde’s on Brunswick Street?” Sandy asked. She eyed Bianca, as if waiting for Bianca to put the pieces together.

  This was the first time that Bianca had even considered that Jackson had the same last name as the popular grocery store chain. She’d figured it was a common enough last name, so she hadn’t even batted an eye. “Yeah?” she said.

  “Well… Kurt mentioned about how it’s a family-owned place. The CEO is a nice guy named Jackson Wylde that stops by the store now and then to see how everything is going.”

  It was Bianca’s turn to raise her eyebrows with surprise. “Wait—you’re telling me that Jackson is the owner of that mega-popular business?” She could barely believe this. But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. He did carry himself with confidence, and he dressed as if he had all the money in the world to throw at his wardrobe.

  “No wonder I thought he was a celebrity!” she murmured. “He practically is!”

  “One of the wealthiest men in Tennessee, surely,” Sandy said happily. She squealed. “Oh, lucky you! This is like Christmas has come early. I’m so happy for you.”

  “It’s just a date,” Bianca said. “It’s not like I’m marrying the guy.”

  “Well, if you two hit it off, maybe you will!”

  Bernard gave a series of staccato barks, and Bianca peeked through the front window to see what the change in his tune was all about. She saw a red Porsche pull up to the curb, and she clearly made out Jackson’s profile in the driver’s seat as he put the car into park.

  “Shoot, that’s him!” she said, suddenly flustered. “I’ve got to get my earrings in, and I’ve barely even put makeup on!”

  “Oh, honey, you don’t need makeup,” Sandy said. “You have a natural glow to you. You have fun tonight and I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

  Bianca rushed off to her bedroom to grab her earrings, having decided on a set of clear diamond-like studs that her mother had given her when she graduated from high school. By the time she returned to the living room, Jackson was on her front porch. He knocked twice. Bianca smoothed a flyaway lock of hair and then checked her reflection before pulling the door open.

  Jackson rocked back on his heels slightly as he took in the sight of her.

  Bianca blushed, catching the way his eyes moved swiftly over her. She hurried out the door, self-conscious of the way the interior of her little cottage looked. Though she’d tidied up, the place was far from sparkling clean. She was used to living with just Peaches for company, and the realization of Jackson’s wealth made her feel embarrassed about her shabby furniture and dog-worn wood floors.

  “Thanks for coming by to get me,” she said, as she stepped out onto the front porch and pulled the door closed behind her. “I hope that St. Bernard didn’t give you too much trouble on your way up the walk.”

  “His owner kept him on a tight leash,” Jackson said. “Is he yours?”

  “Nope. Mine’s the golden, Peaches. That was my neighbor Sandy. She comes by to walk the dogs most days, especially if I’m working a long shift.”

  Bianca felt herself relax as Jackson asked her more about Peaches. She was happy to tell the tale of the day she picked Peaches up from the shelter, then share some of the adventures that the two of them had had together in the years since.

  When Jackson pulled into a parking spot near the dock where the cruise boat left from, Bianca remarked that they were lucky to get parking so close to the river’s shore. Jackson had informed her that the reservations were for a six thirty departure, and it was getting toward that time.

  “I always see such a crowd on these docks around the time that the boat takes off,” Bianca remarked. The cruise boat, The Memphis Sightseer, floated on the dark waters of the Mississippi River nearby.

  “There won’t be a crowd tonight,” Jackson said, as he offered up his elbow.

  Bianca looped her arm through his and looked up at him. “Why not?” she asked.

  “I didn’t just reserve a table,” Jackson said casually as he led the way toward the boarding ramp. “I went ahead and reserved the whole boat.”

  A crew member in a white polo shirt greeted them with a nod. “Mr. Wylde, sir,” he said.

  Bianca was speechless. She felt as though she was dreaming as the crew member led the way onto the ship. A row of waitstaff stood lined up near a double staircase that led to an upper deck.

  A hostess stepped forward. “Mr. Wylde, we’ve prepared the upper and lower dining areas for you. Which would you prefer?”

  “Top deck,” Jackson said. He seemed completely comfortable with making the decision, being waited on, and being the center of attention—all things that Bianca usually cringed at.

  In fact, she felt slightly uncomfortable as the waitstaff watched them climb the stairs.

  All this attention, she thought. Could I ever get used to living like this—almost as if I’m royalty?

  She thought of the many hours she’d spent cleaning up messes as a nursing assistant—stripping soiled linens off of beds, stacking up dirty dishes and food trays, collecting used nightgowns, and wiping down tables and nightstands. She was used to being a service person, not being served. This felt all wrong.

  She felt as though she should be standing on the sidelines, watching Jackson climb the stairs with some other woman at his side—a fancy, wealthy, high-society lady who wore real diamonds in her ears, not cheap knock-offs from the local department store.

  Her anxiety mounted when she saw that there was a string quartet in place under an awning on the top deck. Are they going to play just for us? she wondered. As she and Jackson took their seats, the music started up, and she realized that they were.

  It wasn’t until fifteen minutes later, once the waiter had served chilled white wine and several plates of appetizers and then departed to the lower deck, that Bianca started to relax into the experience. The boat gained some speed as it pulled away from the shore, and a faint breeze ruffled her hair. The sky was growing darker, and little white lights came on around the upper deck.

  She bit into a piece of shrimp that was flavorful with lemon and cocktail sauce and closed her eyes, enjoying the taste. It was rare that she experienced so much luxury.

  “You’re used to this,” she said to Jackson, who had just filled her in on the last boating experience he’d had, on a houseboat on Lake Powell.

  “All what?” Jackson asked innocently.

  “This,” Bianca said, gesturing to their surroundings and the decadent spread of food on the table before them. “You know, I mentioned your name to my neighbor, and she seemed to think you were related to the Wyldes that own the grocery store chain.”

  Jackson chuckled. “You caught me,” he said. He reached for a fried clam. “My dad started the business. He passed away fifteen years back, and I took over for him.”

  “So you’re the owner… of all of them?”

  He nodded. “I have a team that I work with. It’s not like I personally run every store.”

  “You know what I mean,” Bianca said. “They’re yours. That’s incredible. You must do stuff like this all the time.” She looked out at the water which glistened with reflected light from the streets on either side of them.

  “When the mood strikes,” Jackson said with a nod. He eyed her. “I hope you don’t hold it against me.”

  “Why would I?”

  “Sometimes people are funny about it.” He shrugged. “It’s something I’ve noticed over the years. The minute people find out I’m wealthy, their attitude toward me changes, as though I’m different. I suppose I am—I’ve never had to struggle with the things that some do. But at heart, I’m a simple guy. I like a good cold beer, fishing on a lake, a nice country song.”

  She laughed. “Oh really? What do you do… rent out entire lakes and have them stocked with prize fish?” she teased.

  He shook his head. “I just put bait on a hook like everyone else.” Then he gri
nned. “Though I do have to admit that my fishing pole is the nicest that they make—real light aluminum rod, walnut wood inserts, ceramic stripper guides, and designed to fit just right in my palm. Do you count that as cheating?”

  “Maybe an unfair advantage, but not downright cheating,” Bianca said. An image of Jackson out in a boat with a fishing pole in his hand flashed in her mind, and she found that she liked it.

  As the sun sank lower in the sky and then finally slid below the horizon line, dinner arrived. Bianca savored every bite of her grilled salmon, seasonal vegetables, and buttery smashed potatoes. By the time the main course wrapped up and dessert arrived, her anxiety about Jackson’s wealth had completely disappeared. She was warming to him, slowly and surely, even as the night air cooled around her.

  “Come on, let’s sit closer to the water,” Jackson suggested, motioning to a bench by the boat’s slatted railing.

  Bianca picked up her espresso cup and followed Jackson to the bench. He carried two plates of chocolate truffle cake with him, and once she was seated, he handed one to her. She balanced it on her lap, sipped her espresso, and looked out over the moonlit water.

  “I have to admit,” she said with a happy sigh, “I don’t go out very often. This is a real treat.”

  He was close to her on the bench, and she could smell his cologne mingling with the earthy scent of river plants.

  She felt so content. The moon was a sliver of silver above. With each passing second, more and more stars peeked out from the veil of darkness that covered the city.

  “I tend to avoid first dates,” she said, while still looking out over the water. “It’s just so much work, you know? Getting to know someone? It can be so awkward. But this has been really nice, Jackson.”

  She wondered briefly if she’d be opening up like this if she’d not had two glasses of wine with dinner. Probably not. She didn’t like being vulnerable. But something about the starry sky, Jackson’s smile, the way he made her feel appreciated… It was all swirling together to create the perfect storm. She wanted to tell him how she felt.

  She turned slightly, angling her body toward him.

  His features looked more chiseled in the dramatic light at the edge of the cruise boat. The little lights that surrounded the canopy over the dining area just barely reached his profile, creating a stunning effect. His tan was deep and rich, his blue eyes luminous as he eyed her thoughtfully.

  What is he thinking? she wondered.

  Beneath the dark dress shirt he wore, she could sense the mass of his biceps, his pecks, his strong shoulders. She longed for him to put an arm around her and hold her closer.

  She felt herself pulled toward him, almost as though he was a gravitational force. Her eyes roved over his lips, which seemed to beg for contact. They were the most kissable lips she’d ever seen.

  Her voice lowered slightly as she spoke again. “I’m glad you asked me out. I really didn’t expect it. After all, I banged up your car and I haven’t paid for it yet.”

  “Actually,” Jackson said, his voice soft, too, to match the gentle lapping sound of the wave below hitting the first deck. “I have a thought about that, if you’d be willing to hear it.”

  Bianca felt her defenses go up.

  The yearning to be vulnerable with the man beside her dropped away. She bristled. Has this whole evening been set up, so that we can discuss our car accident?

  “Oh?” she said, hearing the skepticism in her own voice. “And what’s that?”

  Chapter 5

  Jackson

  Bianca sounded upset. She shifted her legs, which were crossed at the knee, then she smoothed the hemline of her skirt nervously and set her plate aside so that it sat on the bench between them.

  Jackson didn’t want to upset her.

  He’d sensed that she was into him. When he’d first picked her up, she’d seemed slightly flighty and on edge. But as the evening wore on, he’d felt her opening up to him, like a flower unfurling curled petals when warmed by the sun.

  He was used to having that effect on people, but what he wasn’t used to was enjoying it with as much intensity as he experienced with Bianca. Each time he saw her smile, he felt an expansive sensation in his chest. He felt lighter, happier, and more eager than before to make her smile again.

  It wasn’t only her smile that was lovely, either. When she’d first greeted him at the door of her little bungalow, he’d been taken by surprise by how stunning she really was. Without the camouflage of baggy scrubs, a bulky windbreaker, or a mask of exhaustion due to working all night, she was breathtaking. Her auburn curls fell in loose waves around her face. Her green eyes were bright, lively, and playful. The dress she wore clung to her curves in all the right places, giving Jackson a new impression of her figure. Those legs… that waist. And her lips! They looked so soft and plump, covered in a shiny gloss that he longed to taste the sweetness of.

  “I’d like to hear it,” Bianca went on briskly. Her tone was chilly now.

  “It’s not a big deal,” Jackson said, feeling slightly guilty. “I’ve just been thinking.”

  “About what?” she asked.

  He hesitated, not sure how to come out with his plan. Finally, he realized that he just had to cut to the chase.

  He turned slightly and put down his plate of dessert, so that it was next to Bianca’s on the bench seat. While sipping his espresso, he composed his opening sentence in his mind. Then he said, “I have a problem, Bianca, and I think you could help me solve it.”

  People loved to be helpful, he knew, and Bianca seemed to have that tendency more than most. Maybe it was because of her profession, or maybe it was the other way around—she was a career caregiver because of natural tendencies. He wasn’t sure, but he intended to play to that side of her. “If you’re willing to help, that is.”

  “Why don’t you explain what you need,” she said warily.

  “It has to do with my mom, and my childhood home,” Jackson said. “See, my mom owns the home that I grew up in. It’s an old house, not of much value—unless you consider sentimental value. It has a lot of that, for me at least.”

  “I’m not sure where you’re going with this,” Bianca said.

  Jackson felt the uneasiness coming off of her in waves. He decided he’d better get to the point before her anxiety mounted even further.

  “My mom plans to sell the house and donate the money to a cause that doesn’t need the help. I’d rather she left the house to me. That’s where you come in.” He looked her in the eye. “I believe that if my mom thinks I’m engaged to be married, she’ll see me in a new light and would leave the house to me, if I asked.”

  Bianca shifted in her seat again.

  Jackson sensed that he was losing her. “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” he said.

  “You—lying to your own mother?” Bianca said, raising an arched, auburn brow. She gave him a judgmental stare, and Jackson realized how his statement must have sounded to her.

  “Look, you have to understand a few things about my mom, okay? She’s… difficult.”

  “But she’s your mother!” Bianca said. “The woman who gave birth to you and raised you! How could you consider lying to her about something as important as marriage?”

  “My mom didn’t raise me,” Jackson said coolly. He felt his shoulders stiffen. He rarely talked to others about his childhood. “My parents divorced when I was ten. Up until then, my mom was pretty distant. She had an affair with a man named Lachlan, and then… left. She jetted off to Scotland to live with him.”

  Bianca’s penetrating gaze softened slightly. “But you visited her there, right?”

  Jackson shook his head. “Nope. Dad had full custody of my sister and me. Mom was out of the picture. Last night was the first time I’ve seen her in thirty-one years. I had dinner with her, and that’s when the topic of my relationships came up.”

  “I see,” Bianca said slowly. “You mean… she wanted to know about your romantic life.”

&nbs
p; Jackson nodded, remembering the way his mother’s face had lit up at the subject. “She thought I said I was married, and she acted like it was the best thing I’d said all night. I could see it in her face… like it was written there. She approves of marriage, Bianca. It’s something she can relate to. It’s something she values. It’s grounds that the two of us can meet on. Without that, she’s going to write me off as being just like my dad.”

  “Which means?” Bianca prodded.

  Jackson looked out at the shoreline, which was drawing nearer. The storefronts and restaurants that lined the street adjacent to the river glowed in warm gold, yellow, and peach tones. Some had Christmas-themed decorations glittering around door frames and window panes, which made the scene even brighter. The cruise boat chugged steadily toward the dock from which they’d departed, and Jackson knew he didn’t have much longer alone with Bianca.

  “My dad was a businessman,” he said. “Though I wasn’t aware of it when I was a child, looking back I can see pretty clearly—he chose work over my mother. He prioritized his company, not her.

  “When she left, it was like a slap in the face for him. It woke him up. I remember he spent more time with Danielle and me after that, but it was too late for his marriage. Mom never saw that side of him. To her, he must have seemed cold and calculating, valuing his business opportunities more than their relationship. If my mother thinks I’m like that, she’ll just figure I’ve turned into a version of him. I know it doesn’t make much sense, but—”

  “It does,” Bianca said with a nod.

  He felt relieved. She understands, he thought.

  “People make unconscious associations all the time,” she went on. “I see it at my job all the time. It’s not like I only care for the elderly; I care for their families as well. I’ve learned a bit about family dynamics over the years.”

  “So what do you think?” Jackson asked hopefully. “Will you help me? It would entail going to one dinner, this Saturday night at the Heritage Manor, and playing the part of my fiancée. After that, you’d be all done, and we could call it even in terms of our car accident. You wouldn’t owe me a cent.”